Page 20 of Rescued By Midnight

“I don’t have any clothes—that’s why I left with nothing.” Her voice is soft, drowning beneath the sounds of my car engine and the road. “Like, I mean, I don’t own any clothing, not anymore. He and Jericha threw everything out.”

I’ll come back to the he and Jericha part later. But right now, my brain is snagging on no clothes. “You mean you’ve been home from the hospital for, what, almost a week? And all you’ve had to wear is that?”

She shrugs. “He’s been busy.”

Too busy to buy her clothes. Too busy to make sure his wife is comfortable.

Part of the reason I notice she isn’t wearing a bra, is because she has the most gorgeous, bountiful tits I’ve ever seen. But after listening to women talk, I know such a chest is a mixed blessing. Well-endowed women struggle with everything from back pain to unwanted attention to devastating body dysmorphia. Not to mention the difficulties with finding comfortable bras that offer adequate support.

And her husband, the man who promised to love and cherish her, through good times and bad, has let her go a full week without taking care of this basic need? Clothes are bad enough, but she is probably hurting on top of all of it.

I’m tempted to turn around, hunt the guy down, and force him to feel even a fraction of the pain Alice must be going through. I doubt he could make it thirty seconds without breaking down and blubbering for mercy. Fucking asshole.

My original plan was to take her to a big-box department store, but I toss out that idea. We won’t find good bras there. The next best thing is Angeli’s in downtown San Esteban, but again, we have problems with Alice’s current popularity, and recognition.

Navarre, a luxury department store in central Fair Heights, is my new destination. When I pull into the parking lot, Alice turns to look at me with her bright, blue eyes. “I thought we’d just grab a few things at a discount store.”

“I want to make sure you have clothes that make you feel good, and fit you right.”

“I’ll pay you back?—”

I shake my head. “Nope. Let’s go.”

She seems self-conscious, walking into the upscale store while wearing that ugly yellow sweatshirt and pants. The first thing I do is usher her toward a rack of skirts and matching tops. “Grab whatever you like. I’ll pay for it and then you can wear it while we shop.”

“Are you embarrassed to be seen with me?” She sticks out her tongue.

“Wonderland, you could be prancing around naked in this store, and I wouldn’t be embarrassed.” Jealous and turned on, but not embarrassed.

Her mouth opens in a small O of surprise. I want to touch her lips with my fingertip and see what she does. Instead, I clench my hand into a fist.

The skirt and top she chooses are made of a soft fabric that has me wanting to touch her. Still no bra. My mouth waters every time I accidentally flick my gaze down to her chest. I could bury my face there and bite and lick and suck at all that gorgeous flesh. I wonder how sensitive her nipples are, how much pleasure it would bring her when I pinch and tug.

I shake my head, trying to clear my debauched fantasies. I’m here to help her, not corrupt her.

I steer her toward the intimates section and a perky sales lady who wears a tape measure draped over her shoulders. “I’ll wait back there.” I jab my thumb over my shoulder. “Get at least four good bras.”

“But they’re expensive?—”

“I don’t care how much they cost.” My voice is gruff, but I won’t let her argue with me on this. “You need them, so you’re getting them.”

I pass my credit card to the sales lady. “If she likes it and it fits, make sure she buys it.”

The sales lady gives me an approving smile and whispers, “Swoon,” as I walk off.

Hearing Alice giggle in response puts an extra spring in my step. I used to love listening to her laugh, which happened more before she met Brayden.

While I wait, I browse more clothes. She’s picked out a couple pairs of jeans, which I have draped over my arm, and a few tops. Nothing for running. She used to love running. I wander over to the athletics department and gather up some fitness gear. She’ll need to try on shoes to find the best fit. Sports bras, too.

I take my selections to the counter and head back toward the intimates section. Alice is walking away from the counter, grinning at something the sales lady said. She brandishes my card like she holds the winning hand at poker.

“You gonna give that card back? Or buy some more pretty underwear with it?” I ask.

“How do you know it’s pretty?” She puts a protective hand on top of the Navarre bag looped over her shoulder.

I want, so, so badly, to peek into the bag. “Because you have good taste.”

She blushes.